Don't Wanna Pull You Down
by Sebe
Summary: Season 6. Unbalanced!Sam. Dean just wants Sam to get better. Sam just wants Dean to be happy.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Season 6. Unbalanced!Sam. Dean just wants Sam to get better. Sam just wants Dean to be happy.

Author's Notes: So I got this little plot bunny after Dean tried to get Sam to take some unidentified pills after his first seizure. Just wondering what was really in that bottle.

**Don't Wanna Pull You Down**

"Drugs?" Sam's voice was disbelieving and irritated, also hurt as he stared at the pills in his brother's hand. "I'm not crazy, Dean."

Sam turned away and Dean followed, pills still in his closed hand.

"I know you're not crazy, but maybe…" He trailed off, unsure of a safe way to phrase everything. "Look, me and Bobby were talking and-"

"Bobby too?" And Dean would have preferred anger to the beaten tone of his brother's voice. Sam huffed out a laugh and sat on the edge of the bed. "What did I do wrong?"

Dean's shoulders slumped because that was so not it. He sat on the other bed, facing Sam.

"You didn't do anything wrong. We don't want you drugged up, just…" Dean sighed, putting the little handful of pills next to him on the bed. "I just want you safe, Sammy."

Sam's head only hung lower and Dean's voice took on that gentle tone he'd only just started using on Sam again.

"It's just something to try, Sammy. If it doesn't work, okay, but it's worth a shot." Dean let his eyes roam over his brother's body. "You can't keep going on like this."

Sam looked like…what's a more extreme word for 'hell' since that was a word Dean tried not to use anymore. He knew it was pointless, but he had to feel like he was doing something, damn it. Dark shadows marked the skin beneath Sam's eyes. Most of the muscle Sam had put on over the last few years was gone along with Sam's appetite. There were bruises all over him from falls when he just dropped into a seizure with a lovely side-item of remembered hell. He just looked…ill.

"Sammy…" Dean knew he was playing dirty, pulling on Sam's heartstrings, but if that's what it took…He couldn't let Sam give up now. "Please Sammy. Just do this for me?"

A tense minute later and a weary look directed at Dean that said _'I know what you're doing but I'm going to allow it for now,_' and Sam moved his eyes over to the pharmacy bag Dean had left on the counter.

"…What are they?"

The smile of relief and hope on Dean's face was almost enough for Sam to not dread this so much. Dean gathered the pills in his palm again, pointing out the ones he was talking about.

"This one might help with the seizures. I know medicine's got nothing on…memories, but it could help the physical stuff, yeah?" He threw Sam a confident smile before continuing. "These should help you sleep." _'Because nothing we have has even touched you'_, went unsaid.

"And these…they're anti-psychotics. We're hoping these will help with the hallucinations." Sam cringed. It made him sound insane and he really wasn't…not yet anyway.

"Sam…I know it might be a long shot, but it's worth trying."

Sam wanted to say no, intended on saying no, but then he made the mistake of looking into his brother's tired eyes, pleading with him. Those same green eyes had watched him since birth and had never led him wrong. Who was he to deny Dean this?

Sighing heavily, Sam reached out and took the colorful little pills out of Dean's palm. He grabbed a bottle of water by the bed and swallowed them.

"Thank you, thank you…" Dean couldn't keep the relief out of his voice and Sam cringed. Just another reminder of the stress Dean was under just caring for Sam, the weight his very existence forced upon his brother's shoulders.

When Dean grabbed both sides of his face and leaned in to press their foreheads together, Sam could just make out the shaking of his hands, the shine to his eyes, the _hope_.

"This'll work, little brother. I'll make it work. I promise, Sammy."

Sam nodded slowly. He hoped he could give Dean this victory.

When Sam's eyes skittered past Dean to the corner of their motel room, the animated, decaying corpse of the girl smiled at him with her slashed mouth. Sam closed his eyes tight and leaned further into Dean's hold, trying desperately to block out the soft squelching sounds of her feet padding towards him on blood-soaked carpet.

She knew as well as he did what Dean didn't.

Pills would never be enough.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes: Dear god, I've written a second chapter to a story *gasp*

Summary: Pills can't undo what's wrong in Sam's head. He tries to hold on, but it's finally too much.

**Don't Wanna Pull You Down Part 2**

Dean felt like whistling on the way back to the motel. He didn't for the same reasons he wouldn't skip back, but he was tempted. It was what people in movies did when they were happy and Dean was happy. And hopeful.

Sam had been taking the meds Dean and Bobby Singer, MD, had gotten for him and seemed to be doing better. He didn't get that glassy look in his eyes as often, didn't bite his lip as hard or twitch as much when they were out and about. Dean was under no illusion that Sam was fine, but Sam was better.

He had his bad days when he forgot where they were or couldn't tell his hallucinations from reality. When it was really bad, he could still be found huddled in corners or screaming like he was on fire; like the cold was burning him from the inside. All together though, Sam was more even and Dean counted that as a major win.

Dean fished for the motel key in his pocket.

He walked in and saw his brother startle.

"Whoa, jumpy. Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

Sam nodded slowly and Dean cursed under his breath. Bad day, then. But he forced a smile on his face. Sam flashed him a quick smile of his own.

"S'okay."

Dean narrowed his eyes, watching Sam closely. Something was off, but Sam clearly didn't want to talk about it and if he wanted to play it off as fine for now, Dean was okay believing that for the moment. His brother didn't seem overly distressed after all, just a little spacey and nervous which Dean had gotten used to.

"Didn't think you'd be back so soon." Even Sam's voice sounded off, weak. His eyes darting around like a caged animal looking for an escape.

Thinking it would help Sam focus, Dean gestured to the table where he'd thrown the pages of names of deceased in this town in the last two months.

"Could use your help on this. There were a lot more than I thought there'd be."

After a small eternity, Sam nodded blearily. He pushed himself up off the bed and promptly collapsed back down onto it. Head in his hands, breaths shallow and short.

"Sam?" Dean was on his knees in front of his brother, quickly assessing. "Sammy?"

Sam shook his head. He made a feeble effort to reach out toward Dean, but didn't quite make it, collapsing backward onto the bed instead. Dean caught his arms and lowered him down gingerly.

"Sammy? What's wrong? Sammy, can you hear me? What's going on?" Dean gripped him tighter. "It is a memory? Hell? Sammy, talk to me!"

Sam locked his eyes onto Dean's and the older brother found himself staring at something lost and broken. The regret and apology in Sam's half-opened eyes terrified him.

"Dean…I-I'm…"

Sam went limp all at once.

"Sam! Sammy!" He checked his brother's pulse, which was too slow, checked his pupils, which were too wide, and panicked more. He ran his hands up and down Sam's bare arms because god, he was so cold, his skin clammy.

'_Oh, god.'_

Muttering a steady stream of denials under his breath, Dean tore himself away from Sam and dove for Sam's duffle. He shifted everything until he found his brother's pills. Or at least the bottles because they were empty. Feeling sick, Dean pulled out his cell and pressed it to his ear with his shoulder, rushing back over to Sam and running his knuckles roughly over Sam's ribcage. Sam only shivered a bit, but didn't stir. When the line picked up, he didn't even wait for the girl to finish her opening line.

"I need an ambulance."

Dean was there in the hard plastic hospital chair that they'd spent too many hours of their lives in when Sam finally stirred. He looked nowhere but the ceiling, blinking languidly. Dean only watched him for awhile because he could think of nothing to say, nothing to do to make things right again. Finally, Sam's voice, scratchy from the charcoal and respirator, seeped into the room.

"I thought it'd be quiet."

Dean doesn't know if his brother means his death or the constant din in his tortured mind. He decides he doesn't like either option.

Dean can think of nothing to say and Sam carries on studying the imperfections in the ceiling. Dean keeps his hand wrapped around Sam's wrist and Sam turns his hand over in the restraints to return the gesture. A movement filled with apology and weariness, like Dean was the last thread Sam could hold onto and Sam was everything that kept Dean going.

Nothing in the fluorescent nightmare of the hospital stops for them. Heaven and Hell don't twist and adjust the details of their plan for them anymore. Their part in the world's story is done and so the world is done with them. Life continues on.

And two lost _saviorssinnersboys _cling to each other in the darkness.


End file.
